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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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Vaklam wrote: Jim Corning
What's been keeping you awake? Work. I'm a lawyer for Azure Enterprises, a multinational megacorporation. My team has been launching a countersuit against some idiot who says we stole his invention. We did steal it, of course, which is why it's taking lots of lawyers a lot of time to prove we didn't. If we win this, it'll mean a big promotion for me so I've been burning the midnight oil. One all-nighter turned into three and then ten and...I can't remember the last time I slept.
What just happened to you? The lawyers for the opposition just got better. A lot better. We were coasting on the fact that we had more money but they're using tactics that are mitigating that effect. If we can't present a compelling case to the judge ASAP, he's going to rule for the plaintiff, fine Azure a ton of money, and I'll get fired.
What's on the surface? I project the image of a hard-working, no-nonsense, corporate attorney who is Going Places. Tailored suits, $300 haircut, and shoes that cost more than some cars. You're either with me or you're ground under my wheels.
What's lies beneath? I'm scared. Every day that I show up for work is another day everything could come crashing down around me. This job has already cost me my marriage, my relationship with my daughter, and anything resembling a social life. The work is literally the only thing I have left. If I lose this job, I'd might as well just disappear.
What's your path? Jim isn't aware of his desire to return to the person he was before he started working for Azure Enterprises but that's truly what he wants. His quest is to no longer be solely defined by his career.
Awesome work  We'll need to flesh out your fight/flee points and your talents. We can to that in the ooc thread though. Let's get started shall we?
The court room is ringing. Literally. For whatever reason as you stand there before the judge, the walls around you seem to vibrate with a thrumming *hummmmmm*. It all started when that idiots new attorney walked into the place. You didn't get a good look at him, but every time you turn to focus your attention on him he seems to be looking away or has a folder full of idiotic papers in front of his face.
Why is it so *HOT* in here?! Your palms pour sweat and your throat feels as dry as chalk.
"Mr. Corning? How do you reply to these accusations against your client Mr. Corning? Are you even listening to me?" The judge slams his gavel against the pulpit several times and your head feels like it's about to crack.
You look back over to the opposing council and get your first glimpse of the new guy's face...or at least the part that's not covered in shadow. You can't make out anything but his large cheshire grin that seems to grow with each passing moment. It feels like he's staring at you with his sparkling white teeth.
You hear the gavel sound again on the pulpit but FEEL the hard wet smack of the thing on the back of your head. You fall to the floor in a bundle of pain. You roll over on your back only to see the fat judge floating above you. His voice suddenly sounds like an old-time record from the 30's. The one your grandmother used to play every day before she killed herself with your grandpa's old revolver and left you alone to fend for yourself. Something about an Orange Blossom Special...
You snap back into it when the Judge takes another swing at your with his gavel "GIVE IT BACK!" he screams in that scratchy old-timey voice. "GIVE. IT. BACK!" each word punctuated with a swing of the gavel at your face.
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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Jim ducks to avoid each swing of the gavel. He shouts, "I don't know what you want!" as he stumbles over a lectern and crashes to the floor. He curls into a fetal position and covers his head with his arms.
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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"Well then," the judge chimes. "You'll know soon enough."
The shadows that you swore were filling the room just a minute ago begin to subside as the judge's voice returns to it's normal pitch and timbre. You look around and realize that the court room is unchanged. You're sitting at your seat as the judge continues, "We will adjourn until tomorrow. Mr. Corning, I'll expect that you'll have an answer by then." He stands from his place behind the pulpit and everyone rises to their feet as he waddles out from the room.
You feel a *smack* on your back as the fat grubby hands of Donald Chang, the vice-president and CEO of Azure Enterprises claps you on the shoulder. "You okay Jim? You're sweating like a pig! You're not buckling under all this pressure are you?" spittles flies from his lips with each word. You're sweating like a pig? It feels like the pot calling the kettle black.
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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"No, I just didn't sleep much last night," I said as I tried to piece together what the hell had just happened. "We've got 'em on the ropes, sir," I said automatically. "We'll kill them with tomorrow's testimony."
I went immediately to a bar near the courthouse and ordered a stiff drink.
And then another. Great. I was cracking up.
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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The bartender pours you a drink. Without looking you put it to your lips and take a deep swig.
PLAH BLOOD! You spit the drink all over the bartender who looks abashed and quite surprised. You look down at the drink and take a whiff...Whiskey...how in the world could it just be whiskey?
The bartender clears his throat, "I think it best that you leave son. Now."
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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"Yeah, I guess I'd better," I put a couple of twenties on the bar and stagger out. Normally when I walk unsteadily away from a bar it's because I'm drunk. Now, it's because I have no damn idea what's going on.
I find myself back at the office. Did I black out? Was all that back at the courthouse a dream?
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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Teddy Rosencourt walks up to your desk, a big shit-eating grin on his face. He's one of those straight-bullshit, beat-around-the-horse kind of guys. Real low-life lawyer that everybody loves. Likes to say the word "shit" a lot. Likes to think he knows everything. He doesn't. You don't like him.
"So didja here the news?" he chimes in between long sips of Starbucks coffee, "Eliot Minefield, that super-genius scientist guy we stole the formula from? Yeah, his wife was found dead last night," he pauses a moment to see if you have any kind of reaction before continuing, "Mindy Cypress, that reporter chick I hooked up with? The smokin' hot one? Yeah, she said there were guts and shit all over the wall. Intestines and innards everywhere. Ugh." he makes a grimacing face and looks down at his coffee before taking another long sip. "Worst part? They can't find Eliot anywhere. There're fingerprints all over the walls, big smeared hand prints and the words 'Give it back to me' written in shit, but none of the prints the police can pull match what they have on record for Eliot."
He sits down in the leather chair at your desk and props his legs up. "Mindy says the girl's sister went in to identify the body and was freaking out about some missing locket or something the girl always wore. Weird shit, eh?" Another long sip. How can there be so much coffee in such a little cup?
"So you gonna freak out again in today's hearing? Shit, might not even be one after this news. Eliot was those guys ace in the hole," he chuckles under his breath before standing up and walking non-chalantly out of your office and into the next one, coffee in hand. "Hey, didja hear the news?!" you hear him say before the office door slams shut.
For whatever reason, your hand moves unconciously to you shirt pocket. There's something heavy and out of place there. You reach into it and pull out a silver locket. There's blood on the casing and it's doesn't look like yours (not that you'd know what your own blood looks like). You open it to see the picture of a woman and Eliot Minefield holding eachother for one of those canned photo shoots, the kind you get at Sears or Target or Walmart around Christmas time.
What will you do now?
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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As you stare at the locket, your office phone buzzes.
*BZZZZZZ* Susan, your executive assistant's voice chimes over the intercom, "Sir, I have Detective Fairfield on the line from the police department. He says he has a few questions for you regarding Eliot Minefield's wife? Will you take the call sir?"
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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"Ummm, tell him I'm not in."
Instead of getting rid of the locket, I put it back in my pocket. I pick up the phone and make some calls to find out if Eliot's disappearance has scuttled their case while I try to push all of the recent insanity (not to mention the locket) as far into the recesses of my mind as I can.
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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You make several phone calls and find out from a street contact of yours that two officers have been dispatched to the Motel 3 on MLK drive. Word has it that Eliot knows who killed his wife and has barricaded himself inside. Word has it, he's going to tell the whole world who killed his wife. Word has it, he's meeting with someone from the press in about an hour.
Word has it, you killed Eliot's wife.
What will you do now?
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
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"And you're sure there's no way they can trace the injection back to you?"
You reassure Mr. Minefield that the only people who are going to get screwed up in this whole debacle are the company you represent and the scientists who stole his formula from him to begin with.
You lie a little. Okay. A lot.
"I want you to take this. It was Sarah's. I gave it to her for our anniversary but after I found out about what she was doing with that...that KID!" Eliot chokes back tears as he runs a sleeve across his snot-gushing nose. "I just can't stand looking at it any more..." he mumbles before trading you the silver locket he had stuffed in his pocket for the syringe with Mason Industries emblazoned on the side of it.
The logo makes you grind your teeth. You've always hated it. It makes the syringe look like some kind of tubular Nascar racing vehicle. The logo would look great next to the WONDERBREAD brand now that you think about it...Gotta remember to tell the boys in marketing. "Yeast and Famine! For YOUR Future!" you chuckle at the thought. Eliot gives you a puzzling look before you shake your head and nod for him to continue. He reaches down and pulls out the moneycase...
Eliot rambles on about his stupid wife for awhile. Your mind wanders. You had no clue what the chemical actually was. Some guy from the chemistry department at the office building snuck it to you when you left a couple leading hints about needing something highly toxic to kill a giant rat that had embedded itself under your house.
It's odd. You had never seen the guy at work before, not that you spoke with the pocket protector wielding champions from R&D. Now that you think of it...you can't remember what he looked like or his name...he just had the damnedest smile...
Eliot finally stops talking. You casually fake putting the locket in your pocket but instead let it slip from your hand behind the dresser that you're standing in front of. You shake Eliot's hand and take the case of unmarked non sequential bills and start heading for the door.
What a drab home...you'd think for a guy as rich as Eliot Minefield with a wife as hot as Mrs. Minefield he'd live in a better furnished house...
"You really ought to do something about that bookshelf."
Hmm? Teddy again, back at your office. You snap yourself out of the half-day-dream-half-memory and sit up. He's nit picking over your collection of books and fingering dust off of the top row.
"Filthy shit! Robin West, Allan Hutchinson, Jack Balkin? Why do you read that shit anyways?" he lounges in your office chair and props his feet on the edge of your desk again... "Didja hear yet? University just got shot the hell up. Shit's all over the news. Says something about a kid named Felix going ape shit and shooting everyone in the place, than hauling ass out of there. They're looking for him everywhere at the moment. Shit's insane!"
Felix...Felix...why did that name sound familiar? Oh yeah, that's it...Your guy at the sleazy Motel 3 said he saw this kid, Felix, and Sarah Minefield coming in and out of the place at least two to three times a week. Said the kid tipped well but left the rooms a wreck. Word had it that he was the kid of some big named CEO that basically threw him out on the street with a trust fund. Kid seemed smart though, he only ever used cash and never told anyone who he was related to. Smart idea when you're living in a city as rough as this.
Wait...Motel 3? Didn't your contact just say something about Eliot being there now? About to give a report to the news about something big?
Shit, what if this Felix kid figured out the murder? Told Eliot to meet him at the Motel so they could both rat you out together? What if this whole thing was a set up from the get go? You'd be picking up soap for a living in a state penitentiary...
You've got to do something, and fast.
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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I mutter something about an important meeting and head out of my office. I've got to get to that hotel.
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United States
Florida
We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
-
You head out of the office building and flag down a cab. Several fly past you before one swerves up to the curb and you hop in. The thing reeks of exotic spices and oils, obviously there to cover up some god awful other smell that has built up over the years. You feel your clothes starting to stick to the seating already.
You have a hard time seeing the driver for whatever reason...
"So, we going to the motel are we?" the driver says as you adjust your attache case and jacket. How the hell did he know where to take you? You haven't even opened your mouth to sa....
"Hold on buddy! This is going to get bumpy!."
VRRrrrooooom! The taxi takes off at break neck speeds, slamming left and right into cars along the way. Sparks fly, dents appear in the door, and you watch in horror as a pedestrian goes flying over the roof of the cab, their crumpled body slumping off the trunk. Was that a baby carriage? You try to focus on the crumpled shape disappearing in the distance before shaking your head to get the vision out of your mind.
You try to get the drivers attention, screaming at the top of your lungs. A wire mesh separates the two of you. You still can't get a good look at his face but the rear-view mirror seems to only show a close up of his shining white veneers. His smile seems awfully familiar...
"Get ready for the drop buddy!"
The drop? What is he...oh god no! He's heading right for the peer! You grab at the door handles but they won't budge. You smack at the windows but they won't break. You hear the THUMP THUMP THUMP of rubber tires on wooden boards and the CRACK of a couple as the car jolts left and right.
You reflect back on your life...on your dead brother...on your sister who you disowned and whose husband you helped to kill her...all so you could be the heir...all so...
Weightlessness sets in for a moment as the wheels fly off the end of the deck. You feel the car fly through the air for a moment and in your desperation you wish it wouldn't stop, that it would just fly away, off to some other land, far away from all of your troubles. Far far away from here...
It doesn't.
Your gut goes to your throat. That same feeling you get on a roller coaster at the top of a drop right before the sadistic workers let go of the breaks and send you plunging one-hundred feet to the curbed spinning loopy loop below. At least in a roller coaster you know you'll live...here...hell here you're just waiting to hit the water.
The driver cackles like a mad man...he must be...this has to be a dream...maybe you've finally fallen asleep?
You wait for the water.
You're greeted instead by the sound of wheels on pavement. You're suddenly surrounded by people who are all scrambling to get out of the way of the taxi cab as it screeches to a halt.
"Here you go buddy! Just where you wanted to be!" You try to catch your breath. A single question escapes from your lips but before you can get an answer you feel yourself ejected from you seat and feel the hard wet smack of wet pavement and gravel against palms and knees. You stand up and wipe the blood from your hands. The taxi is gone. You look down at your hands and have to blink twice as you watch the gravel inbedded in your palm wriggle its way out of your wounds and hop off onto the pavement below.
You're standing in front of an old house. Dust covers the windows and shades. You seem drawn to the place. Looking up, you can see what appears from here to be the face of Eliot Minefield in a second story window just before he opens and closes an inside door. People push you to and fro. The streets are packed. No one seems to pay you any mind.
What will you do now?
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Brian Cooksey
United States
Nashville
Tennessee
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I stagger backwards to get a better look at the house. A chorus of "whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck?" rings constantly in my head. "Fine," I say quietly but aloud. "I'll go into the house."
I check myself out as I approach the door. Am I wearing the same clothes and carrying the same stuff as when I entered the taxi?
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We must be...increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out in superior numbers when we emerge!
